


A Small Evening Party

by TwoWeevils



Category: Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 14:01:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2814548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoWeevils/pseuds/TwoWeevils





	A Small Evening Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dryad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dryad/gifts).



Uppercross Cottage  
23rd December 1832

Dearest Elizabeth,

I rec’d yours of 12th December and was Interested to hear of the new _pastrycook’s shop_ in Milsom Street. If Charles can be _prevayled upon_ to take me to _Bath_ this winter (for my _Health_ has been wretched since _Michelmas_ ) I hope to _sample_ some of the Delights.

Once more this Year we are bidden to _Kellynch Hall_ for a small evening party at Christmas.  One’s _Home_ and _Family_ take Precedence at such a time but Mrs. Croft so _depends_ upon my presence at such occazions, that one can hardly decline her _Invitations_. She and the Admiral were _deeply_ disappointed to learn that your Engagements in Bath put it out of your power to join us once more this year.  You and _dear Papa_ will be _missed_ by All.

The rest of the Party at Kellynch will be as always, with Anne and and _Sir Frederick_ —as I daresay we shall _Learn to call him—_ Mrs. Croft’s elder brother (the parson), and his tiresome Wife and unrulie children, Lady Russell, the Harvilles, and sundry neighbours.  As you know, Admiral Croft’s _liberality_ and ease of manner lead one to find any number of _unexpected guests_ taking their ease at Kellynch!

Luisa and Benwick remain _fixed_ in Portsmouth at this Season as she is in an Interesting Condition _once_ _again_. Although Henrietta has _assured me_ that Parish Duties will keep her and _her husband_ from joining the party, I live in agony lest the entire _Brood_ of Hayters arrive in time to sit down at table.

The One _guest_ at Kellynch I am pining to see is my own darling _Eliza_.  She has been staying with the _Wentworths_ these two months and more and will be _most anxious_ to be reunited with her doting Mother. Alas, she will never be as Handsome as her _namesake_ , dearest Elizabeth, but she has made herself Useful as a _companion_ to her cousin and a Mother can ask for no more.  

Please write by return of post with all the _news of Bath_. Will you and Papa _dine_ with the Dalrymples? Say all that is proper to Lady Dalrymple and Miss Carteret from

Yr. Loving Sister,  
Mary

 

***

 

Mary Musgrove pulled the fur rug more snugly about her plump form and sighed discontentedly. While the hot brick at her feet made the interior of the coach tolerably warm, she still detested being forced to sit forward while her parents-in-law sat in comfort across from her. She tried to derive some consolation from having the seat all to herself, but reflecting that her sisters-in-law--despite their unfortunate marriages--each had a carriage of her own, Mary's irritation grew. 

She had taxed Charles again, as he finished dressing for the evening, with the idea of purchasing a landaulet for her. "Whatever for?" had been his response. "We go on perfectly well without me setting up my own carriage. The expense, Mary!"

It was well for Charles, she thought wrathfully. He rode alongside the carriage with young Charles and Walter -- all three of them astride fine hunters new-purchased for the season. There had been no talk of expense when it came to satisfying the sporting demands of her sons and their father! No indeed. Even her daughter Eliza had been given a new filly for hacking the lanes about Uppercross. Clerics and farmers and sailors might set up their carriages, and young girls be given mounts of their own, but a baronet's daughter must sit forward in a musty, ill-sprung, old-fashioned rattler. 

"I suppose Sir Walter and Miss Elliot will be arrived from Bath at this hour," said Mrs. Musgrove, rousing from a light doze. 

“Do not you remember me telling you, ma’am? They are fixed at Bath for Christmas.”

"Did you, my dear?" Mrs. Musgrove chuckled. "I declare I would forget my own name if Mr. Musgrove were to fall dumb as well as deaf!" 

Mr. Musgrove, catching the sound of his own name and his wife's hearty laugh, nodded his agreement and said, "Yes, indeed!" trusting to Providence that he had not agreed to something unpleasant.

Anne, and for that matter Elizabeth, thought Mary, had no notion how fortunate they were to be without parents-in-law.  Between Mrs. Musgrove's forgetfulness and Mr. Musgrove's deafness, Mary found conversation with them extremely tiresome.

"How strange it will be," remarked Mrs. Musgrove, “to be calling Captain Wentworth 'Sir Frederick!'"

"I am sure that _Admiral_ Wentworth," Mary replied tartly, "finds it just as unlikely as we do."  Mary sighed again and gazed out the window at the snow-covered fields.  "Mind you, I don't think much of your new creations.  Admiral Sir Frederick indeed!"

Mr. Musgrove was demanding she repeat herself for the third time when the coachman checked the horses and turned into the sweep before Kellynch Hall.

 

 

Admiral Croft tapped on his wife's dressing room door and peeped round the doorframe.  Meeting his eyes in her dressing table mirror, Sophy Croft smiled and thought he looked every bit as handsome as the day she first saw him.  He still had the upright bearing of a sailor and his eyes still seemed to reflect the blue seas of the East Indies.  He moved -- just a trifle more slowly these days -- into the room and, with a wink at Sophy's maid, slid an arm around his wife's shoulder and kissed her cheek.

"Admiral! Please!" Sophy protested. Although the Crofts stood on very little ceremony in their household, Sophy's maid was looking keenly embarrassed at this mild expression of the Admiral's affection for his wife.

"Thank you, Maria, I shall do. Please see if Lady Wentworth and Miss Wentworth have all they need.”  

"Very good, madam." With a hasty curtsey, Maria fled this scene of public debauchery, wondering would she ever become used to the free and easy ways of the Quality.

"Now, my love," said the Admiral, taking a seat on a gilt-edged chair, "I am pleased to report that this brother of yours has fulfilled a commission for his Admiral!"

"Indeed, sir?" Sophy turned to study the scarf Maria had selected for her. "I had thought Frederick was no longer under your command." Sophy sighed at the delicate gauze-and-spangle creation – it would never withstand the Kellynch draughts on a night like this when the wind was nor'eastering.  

In her six months at Kellynch, Maria had tried earnestly to turn Sophy out in a manner befitting her position as mistress of Kellynch Hall (and as a lady of her advanced years), but Sophy was a poor student: choosing comfort over style, impatient with curling tongs, and refusing outright to repair the deficiencies of her complexion with cosmetics. Not for the first time, Sophy regretted the elopement of her formerly reliable and unimaginative tirewoman with the Admiral's formerly reliable valet.

Admiral Croft smiled, "A young brother-in-law who was once under my command is always under my command, my dear, however much he may be a fresh-minted baronet!"

“Admiral Sir Frederick and Lady Wentworth!” Sophy grinned, tossing the filmy scarf aside. “It does sound very well, but I thank heaven that you declined a similar honour, my love.  The very idea of being ‘Lady Croft’ puts me in fidgets!”

“Aye, and so you told me when you made me disclaim a baronetcy.”  The Admiral picked up the scarf and laid it across the back of a chair.  “Now, have you no curiosity about your brother’s errand for me?”

“I have no doubt you are about to enlighten me, sir!” As Sophy turned from the mirror, the Admiral handed her a soft parcel tied up in cloth.  “But wait, let me guess.  Has Frederick fetched you a fashionable waistcoat from town?”

“Of course!” The Admiral grinned. “It’s about time I learned to cut as fine a figure as our landlord.”

Sophy pulled back the wrappings and unfurled a fringed Indian shawl woven from the softest wool imaginable in jewel-toned paisley with gold thread.  Feather-light, it would repel the worst draughts Kellynch could muster. “My dear!” She pressed his hand to her cheek. “This is beyond wonderful!  For once the only gooseflesh in the Great Hall will be on the goose itself!”

 

 

Miss Eliza Musgrove ran to the window and twitched aside the heavy brocade curtain.  The night was clear, and a full moon cast shadows across the snow-covered lawn below.  “Oh Freddy! I see a coach turning into the sweep!” She turned to her cousin. “Who might it be?”

Miss Frederica Wentworth’s large grey eyes grew larger still. “Already? But it’s barely half-past!”  She turned away from the gilded mirror in the corner. “And I’m not ready!”

Still peering out the window, Eliza sighed. “It is only my family in Grandmama’s coach. And there are Papa and the boys going around to the stables.”

Relieved, Freddy turned back to the mirror.  “I wish I was a boy. Then I wouldn’t have to be paraded like a thoroughbred awaiting the highest bidder!”

“Freddy!” Eliza squeaked, genuinely shocked. “You shouldn’t say such things!”

“No, indeed she should not,” agreed Lady Wentworth, having caught the end of the conversation as she entered the room. “You know, Freddy, that your Papa wishes you always to be precise in your speech. This is merely a small evening party, not an auction.”

Frederica twirled away from the mirror to face her mother. The heavy skirts of her gown, embroidered and beaded satin in a dusty pink, swished around her as she turned. “If I am to be precise, Mama, may I say that my gown is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen…even if I do feel as trussed up as a Christmas goose. And Eliza looks like a fairy princess awaiting her Lochinvar!”

“You and Eliza are both very pretty girls,” said Lady Wentworth, glancing over at Mary’s daughter. Even in the made-over gown of her mother’s that she had been given for the party, Eliza would put all the other beauties in the shade. “But there is no need to speak of Lochinvars for either of you until you have made your débuts.”

Lady Wentworth gently tugged her daughter toward the dressing-table. “Sit down, dear. Maria is coming in to repair the wreck you’ve made of your hair, and then we will all go downstairs together. Yes, you too, Eliza,” she said, as Eliza made to leave the room. “You are a guest in Mrs. Croft’s home and will be a member of her party tonight.”

The chamber door opened gently, revealing not only the expected maidservant, but a gentleman with a mischievous smile on his face. “All present and correct?” inquired Sir Frederick, entering the room.

The maid stalked to the dressing-table, her rigid back giving an indication of what she thought of gentlemen—admirals and baronets!—who knew no better than to visit ladies – howevermuch they might be their daughters, wives or nieces – in their own chambers.

Eyeing the terrifying ladies’ maid, Freddy made her father an elaborate curtsey. “Well, Admiral? Do I pass muster?”

“Hmm.” Sir Frederick frowned. He walked in a slow circle around his daughter, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “No, my dear, I’m sorry. It simply won’t do.”

“Pa- _pa!_ ” Freddy cried. “What can you mean, sir?” She turned anxiously to the mirror. “It’s my hair, isn’t it?”

With a glance at his wife’s smothered smile, Sir Frederick drew a small box from his pocket. “No, my dear, but I cannot, simply cannot have you appearing at your first evening party looking so sadly underdressed!”

“Underdressed?” Freddy drew herself up to her full height, a martial light in her eyes. “I take leave to tell you sir that I am everything that is elegant and entirely à la mode!” 

Moving behind his daughter and turning her to face the mirror, Sir Frederick placed a delicate, double-strand of palest pink pearls about her throat and deftly fastened the catch. “Now,” he said, “you are _entirely_ à la mode.”

Sir Frederick and his lady withstood Miss Wentworth’s transports as they had weathered many a storm at sea.  When these passed, and Freddy was enduring Maria’s assault on her unruly coppery curls, he turned to his niece.  “Now then, Miss Musgrove, I had a letter from your Papa before we left Town.” 

Eliza turned from the fascinating proceedings at the dressing table. “From Papa, Uncle Frederick?”

“Yes, my girl. He gave me the office to acquire--by any means necessary--the proper accoutrement for his only daughter’s first evening party!” Drawing another small box from his pocket, he handed it to Eliza.

With trembling fingers, Eliza took the box and glanced at her aunt.

Anne smiled and nodded. “Open it, my dear.”

With a modest sapphire necklet fastened around her throat, Eliza peeped in the mirror. Although her smile remained fixed, her dark blue eyes betrayed disappointment. “It’s truly lovely, sir, only…”

“Only you cannot,” said Sir Frederick, “absolutely _cannot_ wear sapphires with…what does one call that colour, my love?” 

Anne smiled, “When Mary wore it, we called that particular shade Golden Rod.  But you are quite right, sir, it is quite ineligible with sapphires.  Whatever can Charles have been thinking?”

“Perhaps, my dear,” said Sir Frederick, “he was thinking of that charming cream-coloured gown with the blue sash I saw you lay on Miss Musgrove’s bed not half an hour ago?”

Further transports were endured and Maria bidden to accompany Miss Musgrove to her chamber to effect the necessary alterations to her appearance.

“Oh Papa!” Freddy sighed. “You are so kind! And so cruel to poor Eliza! Mama?” She turned slightly as Anne threaded a blush-coloured ribbon through her curls. “Has Papa always been such a jokester?”

Anne glanced sidelong at her husband. “I believe it is always thus with Naval officers, my dear. They cannot resist teasing!”

“Softly, my dear one!” Sir Frederick chided. “I was sober and deeply in earnest when I requested the pleasure of your company for the rest of my life. _Both_ times!”

“Mama!” Freddy fired up, appalled. “Do you mean to tell me Papa had to propose to you more than once? How is this? How could you refuse him?”

“Now, Frederick…” Anne began.

Sir Frederick drew a chair forward and took his daughter’s hand. “Yes, my child. Your mama does not wish you to know this…”

“Frederick!” Anne hissed.

“But your mama brutalized my poor sailor’s heart and sent me, incontinent, across the seas…to another continent!”

“But Mama!” Freddy turned to her mother. “You told me you fell in love with Papa on sight! You told me all about it, how you met first at a small evening party while Papa was visiting Uncle Edward at Monkford!” 

Discovering that she was not, after all, past the age of blushing, Anne glared at her husband. “It is quite true, Freddy, that I lost my heart to your Papa from the first moment I saw him.  Of course,” she smiled sweetly, “he was quite a handsome young Lieutenant and anyone might be pardoned for being carried away.”

Freddy bristled. “He is STILL the most handsome officer in the Navy! Delia Harville told me that her mama told her that young ladies were forever throwing themselves at my father’s feet!”

Sir Frederick stroked his chin and mused, “I only recall that happening on one occasion…”

Anne glared at her husband and suppressed a giggle. It was, she reflected, truly wonderful that time could smooth over a painful memory as an oyster smooths a rough grain of sand into a pearl.  She straightened her daughter’s choker and schooled her countenance. “Well, dearest, it is true that I – regretfully – broke my first engagement with your Papa.”

“But,” Sir Frederick, his hands around his wife’s waist, pulled her gently to his knee, “your mama had good and sufficient reason for depressing my pretensions that first time.” He turned Anne’s face to look in her eyes and smiled. “I didn’t think so then, but I have learned (in my old age) that some things are better for the waiting.”

Anne submitted to his manhandling with good grace, quietly amused that her daughter was so inured to her father’s unconventional gestures of affection that she barely raised an eyebrow.

“But how did you reconcile?” Freddy demanded. “How long were you apart? Did Papa carry you away across his saddle bow? What did Grandpapa say? This is romance, Mama! I must know the whole.”

Anne kissed her husband’s cheek and disentangled herself from his embrace.  “And so you shall, my love, but not now! Your Aunt Sophy is with the Musgroves already and we shall have the entire party upon us if we don’t spread a little canvas!”

Freddy sighed and gazed unseeing at her reflection in the mirror. "And it all started at a small evening party..."

 

***  
 

Uppercross Cottage  
7th January, 1833

 

My dear Elizabeth,

The _festivities_ at Kellynch are over for _another Year_ and how You and _Papa_ were _missed_ by All.

 _Kellynch Hall_ is _charming as always_ and _very warm._ I hope that _Admiral Croft_ does not _bankrupt_ himself with _Bills_ for _feul and candles,_ although I _confess_ that Charles is _Himself_ having a new _patent Furnas installed_ at Uppercross Cottage which he _says_ will be a great _improvement_ over _open fires._ I _believe_ your home in _Bath_ has _patent stoves_ and I am sure it is _Quite_ _Warm_ without such _expentiture_ being _necessary._

Charles was excessively _Shocked_ to find that very odd friend of Anne’s, _Mrs. Smith,_ one of the party for Christmas. _Mrs. Smith!_ who resided at _Westgate Buildings_ all those years ago (although I am told she _removed_ to Marlborough Buildings upon the _settlement_ of her late husband’s property and is now _quite Independent_ and is Everywhere received, despite her _infirmity_ – perhaps you may have _met her_ at the Rooms.) 

Mrs. Croft and Mrs. Smith, you must know, are Bosum companions and visited the _kitchens_ to make _mince-pie_ and _soused hog’s face_ for _Christmas dinner_ which Anne and _Sir Frederick_ thought _delightful._

 _Quite at home_ she makes herself. Mrs. _Smith_ of Westgate buildings, _running tame_ about a baronet’s seat! I believe she has _dined_ more frequently at Kellynch than its _owners_ in recent years!

O how I wish _Charles_ had gone to _Sea_ and become a _Nabob_ on the pattern of my _brother-in-law_   (altho’ _Charles_ says he is _not_ a _Nabob_ but merely a _very Lucky sailor._ ) _Charles_ certainly behaves as if he were rich as _whomever_ one mentions to signify vast riches! Only fancy! He _arranged_ with Anne and _Sir Frederick_ to purchase a gown and _sapphire_ necklace for dear Eliza in _Town_! She wore it to the party and was _much admired_ , but I would like to be told _what right_ anyone but a girl’s Mother has to _rig her out_ in such style! The expense!

Sir Frederick was _excessively pleased_ to be in company with me, as he always is. He Alone understands the _Presedence_ due a Baronet’s Daughter over a mere _Admiral’s Wife_ , even in such a Family Party as this was, and _lent me his Arm_ to go in to our Dinner.

O _how_ I long to see _You both_ and _Wish_ You had been at _Kellynch_ for _Christmas._

Yr loving Sister,  
Mary


End file.
